Sermon

INTRODUCTION: Two of the pieces of special music today – What a Wonderful World and When the Saints Go Marching In – provide us with opposite theological understandings. One is an affirmation of the beauty of this world, and the other is rooted firmly in a belief in the sinfulness of this world. One marvels at rainbows and babies, people shaking hands and saying how do you do. The other proclaims the beauty of another world far superior to this world filled only with saints.

Interestingly enough, they were both hit songs from the music of one of America’s greatest musicians, and for certain its greatest jazz musician, Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong. But before we examine the theology of his music, let’s look at his incredible life’s story:

Louis Armstrong was born out of wedlock, August 4, 1901 to a very poor Black family in New Orleans, Louisiana, the grandson of slaves. His father abandoned the family when Louis was an infant. His mother then left Louis and his younger sister in the care of his grandmother and at times, his Uncle Isaac. At five, Louis moved back to live with his mother and her relatives, and saw his father only in parades.

He attended the Fisk School for Boys, brought in a little money as a paperboy, but not enough to keep his mother from prostitution. His first cornet was bought with money loaned to him by the Karnofskys, a Russian-Jewish immigrant family who had a junk hauling business and gave him odd jobs. They fed and nurtured him, and practically took him in as a family member.

He developed his cornet playing in the band of the New Orleans Home for Colored Waifs, where he had been sent multiple times for general delinquency. At 14 he was released from the Home, and went to live with his father and new stepmother, then back to his mother, and also back to the streets. He secured a job hauling coal by day and playing his cornet at night. He played in the city's frequent brass band parades; and later on the riverboats of New Orleans.

In 1918, he married for the first time, and he and his wife Daisy Parker adopted his cousin’s three year old son, Clarence, who was mentally disabled as the result of a head injury. Louis took care of him for the rest of his life.

At twenty, he could now read music and was featured in extended trumpet solos, one of the first jazzmen to do this. In 1922, he moved to Chicago, where he lived in his own apartment with a private bath for the first time in his life. As his reputation grew, he was challenged to what were called “cutting contests.” Armstrong could blow two hundred high C’s in a row.

He made his first recordings in 1923, and then accepted an invitation to go to New York City to play. He returned to Chicago in 1925, where his wife billed him as “The World’s Greatest Trumpet Player.” A quintet he played in furnished music for silent movies and live shows, including jazz versions of classical music, such as “Madame Butterfly.”

He had considerable success with vocal recordings. His interpretation of Hoagy Carmichael's "Stardust" became one of the most successful versions ever recorded.

Armstrong moved to Los Angeles in 1930. He played at the New Cotton Club in LA with Lionel Hampton on drums in live radio broadcasts from the club. And in 1931, he appeared in his first movie.

Armstrong began to experience problems with his fingers and lips, which were aggravated by his unorthodox playing style. As a result he branched out, developing his vocal style and making his first theatrical appearances. He appeared in movies again. In 1937, Armstrong substituted for Rudy Vallee on the CBS radio network and became the first black to host a sponsored, national broadcast.

After spending many years on the road, he settled permanently in Queens, New York in 1943, with his fourth wife, Lucille. From that time forward, Armstrong played more than three hundred performances a year. He made many recordings and appeared in more than thirty films, as well as on the cover of Time Magazine in1949.

In 1964, he recorded his biggest-selling record, "Hello, Dolly!" which went to #1 on the pop chart, making Armstrong, at age 63, the oldest person ever to accomplish that feat. In the process, he dislodged The Beatles. He toured Africa, Europe, and Asia under sponsorship of the U.S. State Department and with great success, earning the nickname "Ambassador Satch."

He was a major financial supporter of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and other civil rights activists, but preferred to work quietly behind the scenes. The few exceptions were when he made national news by calling President Eisenhower "two-faced" and "gutless" because of his inaction during the conflict over school desegregation in Little Rock, Arkansas. In further protest, Armstrong canceled a planned tour of the Soviet Union on behalf of the State Department by saying, "The way they're treating my people in the South, the government can go to hell." He contended that he could not represent his government abroad when it was in conflict with its own people. The FBI kept a file on him because of his outspokenness about integration.

He was an extremely generous man, who was said to have given away as much money as he kept for himself. Armstrong was also greatly concerned with his health and bodily functions, which was balanced by his love of food. He kept a strong connection throughout his life to the cooking of New Orleans, always signing his letters, "Red beans and ricely yours."

Armstrong died of a heart attack on July 6, 1971, at age 69. Shortly before his death he stated, "I think I had a beautiful life. I didn't wish for anything that I couldn't get and I got pretty near everything I wanted."

So now, what about two of his biggest hits and their theological perspective: What a Wonderful World and When the Saints Go Marching In?

To address that, let me give a personal perspective: One of the significant influences on my life was the ethos of religious poverty into which I was born. Two of the strongest images I have are of our family of seven living in the three rooms at the back of a tiny church, with a path to the outhouse in back…in Tuttle, Oklahoma. And directly across the street were the railroad tracks and its freight trains and engines speeding by from the North to the South.

I can still remember wondering why my mother started crying when the principal brought me home from my 5^th grade class at school because it had started snowing and I wasn’t wearing shoes. To me, the issue here was I was the one being brought home by the principal! Why should she be crying?

And on Sunday mornings, and Sunday nights, as well as Wednesday nights, we were joined in that little frame building on the wrong side of the railroad track by other families eking out an existence…where the poor were so poor that the poor people called them poor.

But guess what happened on those Sunday mornings? When we began to sing, the volume picked up and the rhythm was faster, because every piece of music made a promise:

One day, when we all get to heaven, things would be different…one day the tables would be turned…one day we, the saints of the Pentecostal Holiness church, would have mansions, and live on streets of gold. We would be treated royally and wonderfully, while all the sinners over on the right side of the track would be in hell…roasting and toasting…extra well, but never done. Glory gee to bejus!

Let me give you an example of what I mean. I’ll sing the verse and you can join in on the chorus:

I see trees of green...red roses, too
I see them bloom...for me and you
And I think to myself...what a wonderful world!

I see skies of blue...clouds of white
Bright blessed days...dark sacred nights
And I think to myself...what a wonderful world!

The colors of a rainbow...so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces...of people going by

I see friends shaking hands...saying how do you do
They’re really saying...I love you!

I hear babies cry...I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more...than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself...what a wonderful world!

So what about the disparity? Which one is right and which one is wrong. Or is it not a matter of right or wrong. The great German philosopher Immanuel Kant said there had to be a life after death so that the inequities of life itself would be balanced. William James said we should will to believe that which is most beneficial to use and to human kind. By doing so, we would discover proofs for our action in the very living of life.

I don’t know how many religions there are in the world, nor how many different beliefs there are about life and what happens after we’re dead. But one thing I do know: We don’t even know how to live this brief life without half of us trying to kill the other half, much less claiming to know how to spend eternity together. I mean, according to our president, God gave him the word to invade Iraq. The terrorists of 9-11 believed fervently that theirs was a divine mission. How is it that all of the great religions are now going to be filled with sweetness and light towards each other? Or is it that only the true believers will be there…which is probably only me and thee, and sometimes I wonder about thee! It’s okay to believe that we really know what is so, as long as we don’t try to punish someone who believes differently.

Regardless, it’s all poetry, and that means we must spend our lives trying so hard to find words that put things into some sense of meaning and purpose. So yes: sing When the saints and follow it up with What a wonderful world. It’s all poetry. It’s all wonderful and beautiful poetry for which we should be thankful. One more thing:

2. We should always punctuate our poetry with a footnote: Subject to change by life

Anytime I’m critical of someone else’s faith and belief, I need a knuckle to the head, because I’ve been there and done that. Governor Sarah Palin? I know right where she’s coming from. The only difference between us is I’ve changed and she hasn’t. But she has as much right to where she is, as I did when I was there. So give her and us an asterisk – maybe hers will be a real big one – that says, Subject to change by life experience.

The proof is in the pudding. The test of faith is not how much we believe, but how much we live what we believe. There are Muslims, Christians, Jews, and people of all faiths and beliefs who are wondrously loving and giving. It should make us think: Hey! they’ve got something there.

But when people use their faith to preach hate and bigotry against people of a different skin, or language, or ethnicity, or sexual orientation, they have become as tinkling cymbals and sounding brass. Their lives shout so loud we can’t hear what they say. The acid test of all our faiths is whether we live it.

Earlier, I mentioned a family who fed and nurtured Louis Armstrong – the Karnofskys – Russian Jews. They were in the junk-hauling business. They knew firsthand prejudice and oppression. They gave young Louis odd jobs, and they loaned him money to buy his first cornet. Guess what Louis Armstrong did?

For the rest of his life, so as to express gratitude towards the Karnofskys and their Jewish faith, Armstrong wore a Star of David pendant around his neck…for the rest of his life.

We will pause for 7½ minutes of brief questions as a part of our Conversation Café. The Service and Support Council will provide microphones for you to speak into.

[1] A sermon presented October 26, 2008, as the fourth in a sermon series entitled, “PROFILES IN COURAGE: What the Lives of Others Teach Us About Living in Difficult Times,” followed by the Conversation Café of All Faiths Unitarian Congregation, meeting at the Crestwell School, 1904 Park Meadows, Ft. Myers, FL, with the Rev. Dr. Wayne Robinson, minister.